toward the two. The ape showed no sign of fear. Instead he grasped
each sailor by the shoulder and peered long and earnestly into his
face. Having inspected them all he returned to Paulvitch's side,
disappointment written strongly upon his countenance and in his
carriage.

The men were delighted with him. They gathered about, asking
Paulvitch many questions, and examining his companion. The Russian
told them that the ape was his--nothing further would he offer--but
kept harping continually upon the same theme, "The ape is mine.
The ape is mine." Tiring of Paulvitch, one of the men essayed a
pleasantry. Circling about behind the ape he prodded the anthropoid
in the back with a pin. Like a flash the beast wheeled upon its
tormentor, and, in the briefest instant of turning, the placid,
friendly animal was metamorphosed to a frenzied demon of rage. The
broad grin that had sat upon the sailor's face as he perpetrated
his little joke froze to an expression of terror. He attempted to
dodge the long arms that reached for him; but, failing, drew a long
knife that hung at his belt. With a single wrench the ape tore
the weapon from the man's grasp and flung it to one side, then his
yellow fangs were buried in the sailor's shoulder.

With sticks and knives the man's companions fell upon the beast,
while Paulvitch danced around the cursing snarling pack mumbling
and screaming pleas and threats. He saw his visions of wealth
rapidly dissipating before the weapons of the sailors.

The ape, however, proved no easy victim to the superior numbers
that seemed fated to overwhelm him. Rising from the sailor who
had precipitated the battle he shook his giant shoulders, freeing